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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26811442">come fast the dawn</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/reluminous/pseuds/reluminous'>reluminous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>from the shadows of the vhenadahl tree [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sharing a Bed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:02:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,036</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26811442</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/reluminous/pseuds/reluminous</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>During the journey to Ostagar, Kallian tries to find peace.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Duncan/Female Tabris (Dragon Age)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>from the shadows of the vhenadahl tree [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1955500</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I can think of a countless number of things I could be doing (or should be doing) other than replaying DA:O and, apparently, writing horny character introspection as I go along. Unbelievable.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>Your life here is over.</i>
</p><p>The first days of what Kallian supposes could be called <i>freedom</i> are mostly a blur. She spends it in a haze of grief, worried for her people in the wake of the bloody swath she has cut through the Arl's estate. The elves of the Denerim Alienage exist in an uneasy peace with the rest of the city's citizens that has held for as long as Kallian has been alive, thanks to Valendrian, but what she has done will have tipped the scale. The people will demand blood, but hers has been swept safely out of reach.</p><p>She does not like that she has left behind all the people she loves most to face that without her. She worries especially for Soris and Shianni. She has memories from an earlier time, before either of them had been born, but so much of her life has been defined by protecting them: from bullies, from humans, from the consequences of their actions and words, and from each other. Her little cousins, the baby brother and sister of her heart, both too bright and full of life to be contained in the small spaces that the humans have left for them to exist.</p><p>At least she managed to keep Soris out of the dungeons. A paltry goodbye gift, but getting Soris through the whole ordeal relatively unscathed is the one success that she can claim. Valora will be good for him, Kallian thinks. The bracing practicality and level-headedness she'd displayed under pressure will make a fine counterbalance to the restless dreamer that Soris is.</p><p>Just like his sister. Kallian has protected Shianni a thousand times from a thousand petty things, but failed to be her impenetrable shield just in time for her beloved baby cousin to be subjected to one of the most terrible of violations a man can commit against a woman. Kallian will have to carry the knowledge of that with her until she dies. Grimly, she decides that it is a price she is willing to pay to live just a little longer. Somehow she finds that she does not want to die yet.</p><p>The first time she and Duncan make camp, Kallian wakes several times with nightmares of Shianni dead before she can be saved; Soris, eyes glassy, gone to meet the Maker on his wedding night because she did not manage to stand between him and some human guard's sword; Nelaros, bleeding on the floor. It is a cold comfort to awaken and know that only the last is the truth. She remembers Nelaros's delighted smile at her careful attempt at flirtation; a simple piece of flattery for the man her father and Valdendrian had chosen for her to try to ensure her future happiness. He had promised to spend the rest of his life devoted to her, and he had.</p><p>She wears his ring alongside her own now. Neither of them had chosen the marriage, or even the rings; both of those could be attributed to her father and his mother, as well as Valendrian. However, despite that, they had both chosen the commitment, stood on that small lifted platform and participated in the ceremony to bind themselves to each other for the rest of their lives. He had come with Soris to save her. She loves him fiercely for it, despite their short acquaintance and even shorter marriage, and mourns his death and the end of the dream their parents had done their best to impart to them.</p><p>Waking from her terrible dreams never brings respite. She wakes under the open skies, laying upon the dubious softness of the dirt. Well, dirt if she is lucky; more often than not, it is mud instead. Duncan did not laugh at her dismay the first time they made camp, but as the days go on and she continues to slump with unhappy resignation to the ground at night as he takes first watch, there is a certain humor that builds in his gaze until five days into their journey to Ostagar he very wryly says, "Perhaps the noose might have made a more comfortable resting place, though I personally think that there's not much to recommend it."</p><p>Kallian freezes in response. He pretends to not notice, settling himself comfortably against the tree at his back with an unusual amount of jostling that gives him away.</p><p>She has not spoken to many humans, but her limited experience has taught her that humor is not particularly welcome or conducive to conversations with them. Even the blackest of humor is generally not offered to an elf by a human, even in Denerim, where many say is one of the few good places for elves to make a decent living.</p><p>Uncertain what to say in response, Kallian falls back on learned survival tactics and carefully says, "Ser, I apologize if I have given you the impression that I am not grateful that you have saved my life."</p><p>She is, even if he had not given her a choice in the matter. Even if he saved it so he can spend her life like coin in an attempt to fight a Blight. Kallian has no frame of reference for what that will entail, but she understands that she will likely die. She has some skill with knives and a bow, but never against a true enemy, only against stacked barrels and stationary paper targets tacked onto the wall, practiced in secret in dark corners during tiny pockets of time when no one, especially her father, would catch her. Her sole rebellious outlet, the one her father asked her to keep hidden away from her future husband, the last thing she has to hold onto her memories of her mother now that she has lost the right to go home.</p><p>Funny how it has both saved and doomed her in equal parts. Kallian supposes death served by an executioner is no better or worse than one served by a darkspawn. At the very least maybe she will have the chance to save someone else in the process. For a moment, she entertains herself with the daydream of saving the king herself. She wonders if he would even notice.</p><p>Still, she had not spoken a lie. Valendrian had seemed skeptical when she had reminded him that leaving was not her choice; she supposes that she could have stayed to die.</p><p>Only, she wants to live, even if it is only to die later. She wants… </p><p>She wants more than to be another dead elf from the Alienage.</p><p>It is a selfish thought that Kallian cringes away from. She had agreed to marry, had chosen to marry Nelaros. She had been ready to live a life of quiet contentments, of planting the seeds of family to grow into a harvest to be reaped in the twilight of her life. She had known, as she still knows, that she could have been very happy living that life.</p><p>She had, in fact, wanted that life. It would have been small and quiet, but it would have been good. Grandchildren for her father to spoil, and eventually grandchildren for herself and Nelaros to spoil, a community within and around her home to support her. <i>Together we are strong</i>, Valendrian is fond of saying. Kallian believes him. No matter how unfriendly or cruel humans could be, the elves of the Alienage had each other. This is a more priceless treasure than anyone can ever know, and Kallian is learning to appreciate it anew now that she no longer has it.</p><p>And yet…she can feel a profound sense of relief and exhilaration underlying her mourning and grief and worry. <i>I may die facing darkspawn as a Grey Warden during a Blight,<i> Kallian thinks, and it is both a frightening and thrilling thought. She feels incredibly guilty on top of being tired and sore and heartsick.</i></i></p><p>
  <i>
    <i>"I am no knight," Duncan says after too long a pause, breaking her out of her spiraling thoughts, "and while the Grey Wardens as a whole have a structure of sorts, relatively loose as it might be, Denerim has too few for us to stand on ceremony with each other. You will have to call me Duncan, as the other Wardens of Denerim do."</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>"I see," Kallian says. How alarming to find that she will have to learn a whole new way of interacting with humans and elves alike. Her homesickness for the Alienage presses even more heavily on her heart, mixing oddly with the guilt and reluctant, conflicted excitement. At least in Denerim she knows exactly what she can say and when she can say it. Kallian has not felt so confused and uncertain in years. She somehow likes and dislikes it. "I apologize. I will not make such a mistake again."</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>"There is no need for apologies," Duncan says, dark eyes watching her calmly. "I will not claim to understand what your experiences have been like, but at least I will say I am aware of why you might be cautious. Once you have become a Grey Warden, the prejudice you experience will not change, though it may be altered in ways good or bad or simply different. However, you are no longer subject to the same rules that you once were. How you handle that will be your prerogative."</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Kallian considers this. "I see," she says again. She is not entirely certain that she does, actually, but his words at least remind her that she has always found a way to handle new things and situations. She supposes that she will just have to keep on doing that.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>At least Duncan seems disinclined to punish her if she does something not of his liking. That in itself is a small boon that gives her a little hope and solidity to this new life she has accidentally fallen into.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>"Sleep, Tabris," Duncan says, almost gently. "We must push hard for Ostagar." His gaze drifts grimly out into the darkness, as if he is seeing something she cannot.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>She lays down in the dirt, her pack tucked under her head, her back turned away from him. Silence falls over them, the sounds of the forest buzzing louder in the absence of theirs.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>"I think," she says carefully, "I do prefer this to the noose after all."</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>The laughter that comes in reply is soft and low and surprisingly genuine. She decides that she likes it. It is not home, but it will have to do.</i>
  </i>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Her dreams do not improve. In fact, they only seem to get more creative as they draw closer and closer to Ostagar. They run out of food and Duncan tries to teach Kallian the basics of how to trap and hunt animals. The worst of her dreams features Shianni getting caught in a trap Kallian has made herself; when she rushes forward to free her cousin from it, the teeth of the trap turn into Vaughan's. His creepy, satisfied laughter echoes in her ears when she jerks awake when the dream turns to one of skinning rabbit fur off of Soris's arms as he screams.</p><p>Needless to say, the lessons do not go particularly well. After they end up chewing half-heartedly on mushrooms and berries that Kallian managed to scavenge three days in a row, Duncan wordlessly takes over the hunting. It turns out that she is entirely capable of eating it as long as it is someone else who kills it. It's terribly hypocritical. She wonders if Duncan regrets recruiting her. Can she really kill darkspawn? She can barely bring herself to kill a squirrel.</p><p>Kallian has never had to kill anything before, aside from the occasional cockroach in her father's house. Not until she'd killed all those guards and those predatory noble sons offering gold as if fifty sovereigns might make up for a night of terrors. Elves of the Alienage are not permitted to have weapons, and thus they are not permitted to hunt. All of their food comes from what they are able to grow themselves in the pitiful soil of the Alienage or what they are able to buy from those in the market willing to do business with elves.</p><p>When she was a child, hunger and malnutrition had been a near constant reality, even with her father's steady and well-paying job, until Alarith and his silver tongue set up his shop years ago, somehow able to procure all sorts of meats and vegetables at prices still inflated compared to the usual market price but significantly less so.</p><p>Kallian remembers suddenly that he'd promised her a story about the Dalish. Another regret, then. Kallian keeps unearthing new ones every day, all of them more meaningless and impossibly dear than the last, like not appreciating the way her father's snoring occasionally keeps her awake late at night or the particular way Elva's lip curls when she spits out <i>wench</i>.</p><p>Well, at least she misses the secret blooming of petty smugness in her chest that it always inspired in herself. Elva had always been the most beautiful, the cleverest, and the meanest among those in their age group. She had been so smug about locking down a rich husband so young and had bragged about it until everyone in the Alienage was exhausted by it. Widowed by her own handsome husband within hours of their wedding, Kallian has to admit that Elva has likely come out for the better in terms of successful marriages, no matter how much the other woman complains about her drunken lout of a husband.</p><p>Kallian is aware there are greater issues to dwell on. However, the closer they get to their destination, the more the apprehension seems to take over her mind, overwhelming every other emotion, and in response she clings to memories of when she was certain of her place and her future.</p><p>She wants to go home, and it is a bitter thing that she cannot without putting her life on the life. Forward or backwards, it will be her life on the line. For some reason, the idea of dying by darkspawn blade is less some great adventure in her mind now and more a horrifying reality that Kallian is angry she has been forced to choose.</p><p>On top of all that, it pours rain for two days straight as if to match her stormy mood, slowing their progress and making Duncan tense with his shortening patience and Kallian muddy, miserable, and furious about it. She says nothing to Duncan about it. If she does, she knows she will lash out at him as the only target for her aimless, seething fury. The only thing that keeps her tongue in check is the lingering gratitude she has towards him for saving her from the executioner's block and a lifetime of fear teaching her to be careful with what she says to a human, but every passing day that she feels the mud squelch in her boots and wakes with ants in her hair wears on the tight leash she usually wields over her words. She feels herself teeter at a tipping point, afraid to find out what lies beneath the tightrope she has been so carefully walking.</p><p>Lucky for both of them, there is a small town with an inn that Duncan actually opens his purse for. He gets them a hot meal, a room, and the promise of a bath to be brought to their room after they are done eating. The innkeeper is happy enough to take their coin, but his wife sneers when she comes out with their food. Kallian is quietly intrigued by the way her disdain is offered equally to the both of them, but finds herself distracted by the food and forgets it entirely.</p><p>Despite the unwelcoming service, the food is good. Kallian tucks in with delight, finishing off her portion with an unsightly haste that Duncan raises an eyebrow at. Afterward, she is full and sleepy with it. The innkeeper returns with a key to their room and directions, and then she is dragging herself and her pack up the stairs after Duncan. Everything feels heavy, from her pack to her limbs to her drooping eyelids.</p><p>Duncan opens one of the doors with his key, and she nearly crashes into his back when he stops dead in the middle of the doorway.</p><p>"Ah," Duncan says. Kallian peeks around him to see—</p><p>The steaming bath, first. She nearly sighs with envy. It will feel heavenly against her skin, to her sore muscles.</p><p>Then beyond it, the double bed. The only bed.</p><p>She is frozen, her heart a wintry wasteland, even as fury and embarrassment crawls hot and red up her neck and across her cheeks.</p><p>"I will speak to the innkeeper and see what we can do," Duncan says, and quickly steps around her. As he leaves, he nods to the bath. "You might as well take advantage while I am gone. I do not expect that they will bring us another one." Then he is around the corner and down the steps, his voice calling for the innkeeper.</p><p>Alone, Kallian steps into the room as he said. Mind blank, she follows his instructions for lack of any better idea. She pulls off the armor she'd stolen in the process of murdering an estate full of guards, the shift she's been wearing since that day; she has not had time to clean any of it, so all of the blood and mud and sweat remains. Somehow she never noticed it until now. It smells disgusting. She piles it all in a corner next to her pack so she can clean it later. She digs out the extra clothing she'd managed to pack before they left, puts it to the side.</p><p>After a moment's hesitation, she pulls out the bloodied wedding dress she had been wearing when Vaughan had come to crash their celebrations. She sets that aside as well. She needs to deal with it.</p><p>Then she takes a moment to wipe of the worst of the grime with a thoughtfully provided washcloth before she gets into the bath. It is heavenly, even better than she had imagined. She luxuriates in it for only a moment, then grabs the soap and quickly soaps up to remove the last of the mud and the blood. When Duncan has still not arrived after that, she takes a few extra moments to pick out the dirt and whatever else from beneath her fingernails. When he is still not back after that, she takes the chance to wash her hair thoroughly.</p><p>She does not think that he will begrudge her this as he was the one to tell her to take advantage of the bath, but she still feels like she shouldn't be allowed this.</p><p>According to Duncan, she is to be a Grey Warden, and none of his words or actions have contradicted that. <i>The prejudice you experience will not change, though it may be altered in ways good or bad or simply different</i>, he had said, though, and here is proof of that. She had been protected in Denerim to a certain extent by the reputation of her father, and by her own carefully constructed behavior designed to never stand out or offend. Always good, manners impeccable, that was Cyrion's girl.</p><p>Outside of Denerim, traveling with a human man in armor, among people who do not know her, she is little more than an elven servant or slave. That Duncan is wearing beautiful, if well-used, armor implies that he is a man of means who can afford attendants; that he has brought an elven <i>woman</i> to accompany him implies that she is a <i>favored</i> servant. Even with her wearing armor and carrying weapons, it is no stretch to imagine that such a man would choose to bring a woman instead of a man to guard his back on his travels only if she was meant to do double duty warming his bed.</p><p>Despite herself, despite Duncan's unspoken consideration of them to be equals, there is a part of Kallian that thinks that perhaps she ought to be serving after all. A servant attends to her master's needs first, before all else, even if he himself ordered her to take care of herself first.</p><p>No. Duncan had not ordered her. He had suggested it, and Kallian had done it of her own free will.</p><p>Kallian dunks her head into the water, roughly rinsing her hair. When she breaks the surface again, she takes some heaving breaths, clutching the sides of the tub, and grits her teeth to hold back the rising scream. <i>I serve no one but myself,</i> she vows to herself. <i>Not anymore.</i> She sucks in lungfuls of air and lets the breaths out slowly, settling into this new conviction.</p><p>Slightly calmer now, she finishes her bath. She has no towel and none has been provided, so she is forced to drip on the floor as the air dries her skin. She ties her hair up and alway from her face, wincing when she squeezes out more water onto the floor. She uses her dirty shift to wipe it up and hopes that Duncan will be polite enough to knock when he returns.</p><p>There are calluses on her hands that the delicate cloth of her wedding shift catches on. From the rub of rough dagger handles against her soft skin as she gripped them too hard, afraid that the cold sweat building on her palms will cause them to slip out of her hands as she killed another guard before he could kill her or, Maker forbid, Soris. From the training that Duncan has instructed her in, teaching her skills her mother never got to, from collecting branches and handling pots glowing with heat from the fire with her bare hands.</p><p>Her hands are shaking, caught in the folds of the finest material her father could afford. Wasted, soiled, treated like little more than a cleaning cloth worth not more than a copper.</p><p>The grief rises like a wave. She tries to swallow it down, but it insists, pressing hard against the back of her throat, her eyes, her teeth. She stands blindly, stumbles nakedly and then falls to her knees near her wedding dress. Without thinking, she puts her hand on it, and smears more dirt on it. Lost, it is lost. It is too late for it, so Kallian gives up the ghost and presses her face into it entirely.</p><p>Her mind is strangely numb and quiet. Someone is sobbing. She blinks through tears. It is herself.</p><p>Suddenly she crashes back into herself, the force of her weeping bending her in half and taking her breath away. She manages to keep it relatively quiet as force of habit, and a far away part of her marvels at how wild and painful this moment of mourning is, even as it also recognizes that it is necessary.</p><p>By the time she has calmed down again, Kallian is exhausted. Her hair and face are wet, but everything else seems to have dried somewhat. She numbly puts on her clean clothing after setting her old clothes aside.</p><p>Once dressed, she methodically begins cleaning her armor as best she can. Then she carefully lays it out and then stands. Duncan still has not returned.</p><p>She picks up the wedding clothes and begins ripping it into strips. They will make good bandages when she needs them. They are a little damp, so she lays them out to dry some before they leave in the morning.</p><p>With that complete, she has no tasks left to do. She goes to the bed. She lies down and closes her eyes.</p><p>She goes to sleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kallian awakens to the dark of night broken by the soft glow of a candle. She turns her head to see Duncan sitting in the one chair in the room, awake. He is no longer wearing his armor, clad instead in soft linen sleep clothes. His armor sits in a different corner from hers with his sword, all cleaned and shining. It also looks like he'd bathed at some point while she was asleep. She hadn't even stirred when he'd come in.</p><p>She is fairly certain this does not bode particularly well for her future as a monster hunter.</p><p>She sits up, struggling a little out of the blankets that have been tucked in around her. She does not remember doing that at all, so it is likely that Duncan was the one who swaddled her like a babe. She is in equal parts grateful, embarrassed, and somewhat amused.</p><p>"I suppose I never said," Duncan says in his grave way, "but I am very sorry for your loss."</p><p>"Thank you," Kallian says. Her tears seem to have lightened the burden she had been carrying unwittingly, and his words somehow lighten it further.</p><p>Duncan nods. Moment over, he is abruptly back to business, as is his wont. It's strangely reassuring. "We are four days from Ostagar," he says. "King Cailan is…eager to jump into the fray. I suspect we will not be there long before you see your first action."</p><p>"You refer to battle," Kallian says, stretching her arms over her head. It pulls her clothing tight against her body and she is astonished to see his eyes flicker inadvertently to where it outlines her bosom. Only for a fraction of a second before his eyes are on hers again. She drops her arms back to her sides.</p><p>"I apologize," he says awkwardly. "I have been traveling alone for some time. I understand that is no excuse for my dishonorable behavior. You have the right to be concerned, but I give you my word that I will do no harm to you. Not in this way."</p><p><i>Not in this way</i>. Like that which had been done to Shianni.</p><p>Kallian lets out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "I believe you." She does. If he had planned to rape her, he could have done it a hundred times before tonight.</p><p>He coughs. "Nevertheless. This journey we have been on together is nearing its end. You will not have to put up with me much longer."</p><p>Kallian considers this. "Yes. Four days until Ostagar, you said."</p><p>"Yes," Duncan says.</p><p>"To battle," she says.</p><p>He nods in confirmation. "Yes, it is likely."</p><p>She looks away from him and out the window. How romantic it might be, she thinks to herself with some attempted humor, if she were looking right in the direction of the place she might die!</p><p>Her eyes fall back down to her hands clenched in the blankets bunched in her lap. "I have never," Kallian says with much more calm than she truly feels, "been in a battle before. I imagine it will be very exciting until I die."</p><p>When she looks back at Duncan, he is watching her steadily. "I believe you are as likely to survive as any who join the Grey Wardens," he says.</p><p>Kallian tries not to laugh bitterly at this. Grey Wardens die all the time. She isn't foolish enough to need to guess at why the number of Grey Wardens in Ferelden has dwindled so greatly that he is recruiting right as the Blight is at their door. "Very reassuring," she says instead, keeping her expression neutral.</p><p>He smiles a little at that, as if she has told a joke.</p><p>Slowly, deliberately, Kallian draws the blankets away from her legs, but does not swing them off the bed. She is no brothel girl or practiced vixen; Kallian was a good, chaste girl until a predatory man child with too much power had come into her home to steal her innocence. This is the most invitation she is able to muster. It works a little, if the way his eyes drop to her still-clothed thighs is any indication.</p><p>"I trust you," Kallian says carefully. "Two weeks ago, I was supposed to have a wedding night. If I am to die on a battlefield so far from home in four days, I would like something…gentler than how that night turned out."</p><p>Duncan's jaw drops a little. She is amused again to find that she has so discombobulated him. "I do not wish—"</p><p>"But I do," Kallian says, cutting him off. She sighs, smoothing the material of her skirt over her knees, leaning forward to touch her toes in another stretch. "I have heard—rumors that this is common among soldiers before they take to the battlefield. If you are willing, then so am I."</p><p>"Your husband," Duncan says quietly, and then stops.</p><p>When he does not continue, she sits up again to look him in the eye solemnly and says, "I have not forgotten him. Unfortunately, he is not here for me to take comfort in." She had sworn to serve only herself from now on. She will serve herself in even this. Nelaros is dead. She owes him her chastity no longer.</p><p>Duncan purses his lips. She knows he does not do it to draw her attention there, but it is focused there all the same. "You have had a difficult few weeks," he says. "I do not believe you are making this decision in the soundest of mind."</p><p>"It is the same mindset in which I chose to follow you despite my unwilling conscription into the Grey Wardens," Kallian says, a little more sharply than she intends. She attempts to temper her voice to back to her usual polite formality. "Unless you are calling those decisions unsound?" Well. At least the tone is correct, if the words are not.</p><p>Duncan nods slowly. "I suppose you are right," he says, a wry smile twisting his lips. "Hardly fair of me." He straightens in the chair. "I am not unwilling, as I have already proved."</p><p>She thinks that is supposed to be a joke. Kallian smiles. "You will have to guide me in this as you have guided me in others," she warns him. "I have no experience in this."</p><p>Duncan nods again. "Duly noted," he says. He stands and begins sits on the edge of the bed. She shuffles a bit and rearranges her limbs so that she might sit closer to him.</p><p>It occurs to her belatedly to ask, "The innkeeper would not change our room arrangements, then?"</p><p>Duncan nearly laughs at that, she sees it. Pleased humor warms her to her toes. When he slides one big hand over hers and curls his fingers to hold her wrist loosely, the temperature of the room seems to tick upwards gradually.  "No," he says seriously. "I had thought it quite unfortunate and argued quite strenuously for another room."</p><p>"Ah," Kallian says, her breath hitching slightly when his other hand comes up to rest on her shoulder. "And now?"</p><p>Duncan shakes his head at her, even as he slides his hand from her shoulder up her neck to cup her jaw. His face is very close. Oh, Kallian realizes, he is going to kiss her. "Perhaps less unfortunate than it might have been," he concedes, and leans in.</p><p>How strange to be here doing this. Duncan is much bigger and taller and broader than Nelaros had been, but Kallian can't help but wonder if kissing Nelaros would be anything like this; a warm mouth against hers, one hand cupping her jaw and the other on her waist. Her hands have come up to rest on Duncan's chest. He is startlingly gentle.</p><p>He is also clearly experienced. There is a confidence in the way he holds himself, the way he holds her. He pulls away to check on her, dark brow slightly furrowed, and when she just blinks back at him, he shifts so that he has one knee on the bed and tugs her firmly into his lap, tugging her skirts up her thighs so that she can straddle him.</p><p>Flustered, she would sputter in surprise if not for the fact he has already claimed her mouth again. His hands are around her waist now, with hers sliding up to cradle his face in her hands this time. She has no idea what she is doing, but she finds that she does like kissing him. She kisses his mouth, his closed eyelids, his lovely cheekbones. His thumbs massage firm, intent circles into her skin and the sensation makes her shiver.</p><p>"Do not be afraid," Duncan says, one hand coming up to grip her chin.</p><p>"Okay," Kallian says, puzzled, and his explanation is another kiss. His tongue traces the line of her lips and she instinctively opens them for him. His tongue goes in her mouth, which is quite an experience. It strokes deviously against the roof of her mouth, making her clutch at his shoulders in shock at the feeling, and she closes her lips around it and sucks in retaliation. He groans, which sends a lightning bolt of dizzy arousal through her.</p><p>One of his hands rests on her naked thigh under her skirts and he uses it to tug her forward until the heat between her legs is pressed against the solid length between his. When his other hand slides down her back to hold her in place when he rocks his hips forward, she breaks the connection of their mouths to moan and try to catch her breath. "Duncan," she pants.</p><p>"If you want to stop, you say so," he tells her, eyes even darker than usual. "If you need it slower, you must say that as well."</p><p>"No," she says. "Don't stop." She reaches down to unlace his pants. A blurred moment later, she realizes she is blinking into the fabric of her dress, her arms and head caught in it.</p><p>She feels his lips on her neck. "Duncan," she says.</p><p>There is no answer. Apparently he is otherwise preoccupied sliding his tongue into the hollow of her throat, his hands sliding her smallclothes off her hips, down her thighs. They stall at her knees because his hands slide back up to cup her breasts, clever thumbs on her nipples. She moans in pleasure and frustration, incredibly annoyed. He's trapped her in her own clothes! She struggles to free herself, even with the distraction of his mouth moving down to pay special attention to one breast as his hand continues to work the other. The freed hand goes down to her hip, where it holds Kallian in place.</p><p>Kallian manages to free her head so she can scowl at Duncan and also see what he is doing. "That was unfair," she accuses.</p><p>It is quite the sight to see him release her spit-shiny nipple from his mouth, where it continues to hover as he speaks to her. "You have proven to be rather proactive," he says. "I had every confidence that you would be able to free yourself."</p><p>"That is not the point," she says, and then forgets her entire train of thought when he takes it upon himself to switch breasts to lave attention upon. She whimpers.</p><p>Both hands are on her hips now, pressing those slow, maddening circles into her skin again. She frees her arms and reaches for his shirt, drags it over his head. Her action reveals a torso with a mapwork of scars, some healed and some still red and raw-looking. She stares at them.</p><p>He is watching her, hands now still.</p><p>"Pants," Killian says.</p><p>"Of course," Duncan says, and obliges her.</p><p>His cock is bigger than she expected, but perhaps proportional to his body. Killian has seen a few cocks, but never one as large or stiff as this. She looks down at her own sex though she cannot see it. She cannot understand how it might fit. When she tells him so, he chuckles.</p><p>"There are other things than we can do that would not involve penetrative sex," he suggests.</p><p>"But," she says, a little sheepish, a little embarrassed, "I want to try it." She simply hadn't considered the logistics of the differences in size between humans and elves. However, there are enough elf-blooded children that speaks to the fact that it must be possible.</p><p>"Slowly, then," Duncan says, and distracts her by doing something she does not understand at first; he moves off of the bed and kneels, dragging her hips to the edge of the sheets.</p><p>Then he leans down and puts his mouth on her, and she stops worrying about cocks at all because his tongue, <i>oh.</i> He does not stop until she is shaking and begging incoherently. He does not stop until she is weakly slapping at his hands around her thighs, the ones holding her in place because it is too much, it is <i>too much</i>, a comet has exploded in her mind and body and now that little nub he is so interested is too sensitive, but he doesn't stop, not until she is shaking again, her fingers tangled in his hair and she is <i>howling.</i></p><p>There are tears in her eyes again by the time she comes down again, and he is laying next to her with a smug expression that looks strange on his usually somber face. He has a hand resting on her stomach.</p><p>"You are," Kallian manages to say, "very good at that."</p><p>"Thank you," Duncan says, and slides one finger into her, watching her face intently as he rubs the heel of his palm against her to cause more sparks to fire behind her eyelids.</p><p>"Guh," she says, and shifts uncomfortably when he adds a second finger. He leans down to scrape his teeth against the underside of her breast and thoroughly distracts her until he has three demanding fingers in her and yet somehow the comet is back again.</p><p>When she gingerly goes to touch herself, she cannot believe how wet she is. Her breath is harsh in her ears and her voice is shaky when she says, "But I haven't—you—" She manages only to wave vaguely in the direction of his engorged cock.</p><p>"We don't have to," Duncan says. "But you may try if you wish."</p><p>"I do wish," Kallian says. Duncan inclines his head in acquiescence and moves to sit with his back against the headboard.</p><p>Kallian somehow gets her rubbery limbs beneath herself. She crawls to him on hands and knees, hands on his shins, his thighs, shoulders for balance as she straddles him again. She fumbles for his cock until she has it in hand, the impossible head pressed against her entrance which miraculously spreads to accommodate it.</p><p>She breathes through the stretch until she has to grit her teeth at it. She peeks down and she is not all the way down. "Maker," she says, bewildered. "Why are there so many elf-blooded if it is like this?"</p><p>Duncan makes some abortive choking noises. When she looks to his face in alarm, she realizes he is laughing. "Inside joke," he says quickly at the expression on her face and he settles his hands on her hips. "This is enough."</p><p>"Good," she bites out, and he chuckles again.</p><p>"All right," he says, and gently leans forward, pulling her upper body to him until she is half slumped over one shoulder, her arms clutching the headboard. "Just hold on," he tells her, and then he applies a thumb to that spot that sends lightning bolts through her body and strokes her spine until she can't help but relax even around the hard flesh she has impaled herself on. Before she knows it, she is rocking her hips to chase the sensations of that thumb and she gasps at the feeling of his cock shifting inside of her. It doesn't hurt anymore. It just adds to the pleasure, somehow.</p><p>She tries it again, and then Duncan is scrabbling at her hips and groaning deep in his chest. Being so near, she can feel the sound vibrate through his body and into hers.</p><p>Experimentally, she shifts her hips up and then down, and they both moan, the feeling of it feeding into one another and then Kallian is leaning back so she can see him as he gasps and furrows his brow. His hands flex rhythmically on her hips and she realizes that he is holding himself back so he won't hurt her.</p><p>She kisses him, sliding her tongue into his mouth, delighted when he responds enthusiastically and sloppily. When she pulls away, she admires the half-lidded, panting look of him, and then she looks down again. She does some quick thinking, and then pulls his hand to where they are joined. "Can you grip here?" she asks him.</p><p>He raises an eyebrow. "Yes," he says, voice heavy with arousal and amusement.</p><p>"Please do," she says. When he does, she shifts to give herself more leverage to move both up and down, and then she does her level best to <i>fuck</i> him. Every time she slams down, his fist around his cock keeps her from going too far and even when she lifts up too far, he is holding himself in place until she finds her way back.</p><p>"Yes," he says again, nonsensically. "Yes, yes."</p><p>"Good," she says back, just as nonsensically. "Good." The comet is crawling its way up her legs, her fingertips, her breasts bouncing in the air—Duncan hisses and his free hand comes up to grab one breast too hard, and she cries out because it hurts, but it's just enough sensation to send her spiraling out of control.</p><p>Duncan growls when her hips stutter, and then shoves her onto her back, pulling out as she shudders and shakes and straddling her hips with one hand on the bed by her head for balance as his own hand works his cock furiously—is that what he meant by other things?—and then his head is knocking painfully against her collarbone when white spunk jumps out from the tip and paints her stomach with his release.</p><p>As they catch their breath, Kallian thinks suddenly of Nelaros again.</p><p>She sighs, the expulsion of breath stirring the hair at Duncan's temple, and lets her ghosts go.</p>
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